


What Doesn't Break Us

by Viridescence



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fuck Or Die, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Situational Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-05
Updated: 2013-07-05
Packaged: 2017-12-17 17:01:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/869884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viridescence/pseuds/Viridescence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is Harry and Draco's one month anniversary, and Harry is late to pick Draco up for their celebratory dinner.  But Draco knows that something is wrong.  He finds Harry captured by Death Eaters, and unfortunately, the only possible plan to save both their lives risks breaking Harry, and their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Doesn't Break Us

**Author's Note:**

> This is another of my old Harry/Draco fics, posted originally on June 15, 2006. This is one of the darker fics I've written, and it's sort of dub-con but not really, in a fuck-or-die situation where Harry and Draco already had a relationship and Harry consents so they can get out alive. Even over six years later, I'm still ambivalent about this story. Written after Half-Blood Prince was published, so necessarily ignores all of Deathly Hallows.
> 
> Original Author's Notes:   
> A huge thank you to dacro for helping me with the plot for this story, and for the amazing beta work. I was very unsure about this story, I didn't think it was anywhere near my best work, but I had to go where my muses led me. Dacro helped me improve and polish it to the point where I am satisfied with it. So thanks, J. *hugs*   
> Warnings: Non-con, but not really, implied torture, humiliation/subjugation, sort of. You'll see what I mean when you read it. Male/male sex, so don't read if that bothers you. A hefty dose of angst/drama.  
> Spoilers: I began this before HBP, but have incorporated HBP canon. So, AU post HBP.  
> Disclaimer: Alas, Harry and Draco are not mine. Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, and all the other characters in the Harry Potter Universe (and said universe) belong to J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic, and Warner Brothers. No money is being made and no harm is intended. I just adore JKR's world so much that I have to play in it myself.

**What Doesn't Break Us**

 

_“I made reservations at a great restaurant for this evening.”_

_“Oh? Where? It had better not be at another American Muggle fast food chain.” Draco shuddered at the memory of greasy, over-processed cardboard that posed as a cheeseburger._

_Harry laughed, his face mischievous. He clearly was thinking of the same memory. “You’ll like it, I promise.” They kissed leisurely for a moment, just a light brush of lips and tongue. “So I’ll pick you up at your place at eight,” Harry said, placing his hand on the back of Draco’s neck and sending shivers down his spine._

_“Do be on time, Harry,” Draco said with a sly grin. It was a standing joke between them: Harry was known for his punctuality, but Draco perpetually made them late, usually because he insisted on one more snog before they left._

_Harry smiled again, making Draco’s heart skip. “Happy anniversary, Draco.”_

* * *

Harry was late.

Draco drummed his fingers on the armrest of his chair as he glanced at the clock again. Half an hour late. _He had better have a damn good reason,_ Draco thought, trying to assure himself that his lover was just running behind. He gripped the armrest so firmly that his knuckles ached.

He stood and paced in front of the fireplace, his footfalls echoing strangely against the walls of his flat, sounding unnaturally loud against the crackling of the flames. He looked at his clock again. Forty-five minutes late.

“Dammit, Potter!” he cursed, kicking the chair. Harry would not blow the evening off or be this late without calling or getting in touch with Draco somehow. Every Slytherin instinct in his body was telling Draco that something was terribly wrong, and he could feel his gut churning with dread. He ran his hands through his hair in frustration, ruffling the perfect style he’d spent twenty minutes on earlier. That didn’t seem important at the moment, though.

Harry and Draco had become hesitant friends in seventh year, when Draco had joined the order. It had taken them a while to get past their history, but gradually they developed a trust between them. Draco had eventually managed to cease hostilities with Granger and Weasley, even.

Over the next two years of working closely together in the war effort, it increasingly became clear that there was an undeniable chemistry between Harry and Draco. More importantly, though, their magic harmonised—when they were together, each of them was stronger than when they were alone. Harry’s magic washing over him and joining with his was the most exquisite sensation Draco had ever experienced.

Although it took them a few awkward months to work the details out, they began dating exactly one month ago. Draco and Harry were truly an explosive combination; the first time they’d had sex was so intensely powerful that, after the resulting explosion of energy, they’d had to reset the wards around Harry’s flat.

Draco had always guarded his feelings carefully, but there was something about his relationship with Harry that was different, something so brilliant and shattering and completing that it made his heart race and his breath hitch, something that made it nearly impossible for Draco to hide his smile behind the disdainful Malfoy mask. There truly were no words to adequately describe it, but it was something he knew he never wanted to do without again.

Which was why he couldn’t shake this unsettling feeling. Harry had been so excited about this evening, and while Draco wasn’t one to flaunt his enthusiasm, he’d been eagerly looking forward to it as well.

Draco stopped pacing and looked at the clock again. Harry was now an hour late, with no call, no owl. Something was definitely wrong. For a moment he wished he’d thought to charm a clock like the Weasleys’; at least that way he’d have something more to go on than his instincts. Draco quickly turned around to the fireplace, knelt down, and flung a pinch of floo powder into the grate.

“Severus Snape, Number 12 Grimmauld Place,” he shouted into the emerald flames, and then he plunged his head into the fire. “Severus!” he called when his head stopped spinning.

Snape was sitting at a table in his private room, reading a book. “Draco?” Severus looked curious and then concerned when he saw Draco’s face. The professor came quickly over to the fireplace and sat down gracefully on a cushion kept there for floo chats.

“Something is wrong, Sev,” Draco began hurriedly. “Harry was supposed to pick me up for dinner an hour ago, and he hasn’t shown, or owled, or called, or anything. It’s not like him.”

Snape’s black eyes darkened and his eyebrows furrowed together. “Are you sure he isn’t just…”

Draco cut him off. He didn’t have time for Snape’s perpetual disparagement of Harry. “No! Tonight’s our anniversary, and he wouldn’t… Look! I know something isn’t right! I can feel it.”

Severus sobered, and then nodded. “I will notify the Order immedi—”

At that moment, both Draco and Severus hissed simultaneously in pain. Draco’s forearm was burning, searing, leaching darkness up into his bicep. And he _knew_. “Harry,” he whispered through clenched teeth.

After the pain subsided to a dull throb, Draco met Snape’s eyes, understanding each other and the situation instantly. His former head of house was gripping his Dark Mark tightly and breathing heavily.

“I have to go,” Draco said, his voice breaking.

“Yes,” Severus nodded. “I will alert the Order. Be careful, Draco.”

Trying to swallow his building terror, Draco smirked. “Always.” He then pulled himself out of the fire, put his cool Malfoy walls firmly into place, and donned his Death Eater robes and mask. He fingered the dragon pendant around his neck, a gift from Harry that doubled as an emergency Portkey, and tucked it under his shirt. The weight of it on his collarbone was reassuring; all he had to do was squeeze it tight, pressing the emerald eyes, and he would be returned to Harry’s flat.

Focusing on the residual ache from his Dark Mark, Draco Apparated.

He arrived under the spacious arches of the entry foyer in Malfoy Manor, into the company of at least twenty other Death Eaters. Snape would not be among them; his cover as a double agent had been blown the previous year, and he had barely escaped with his life, thanks largely to Harry. Draco knew that his mentor would not be a part of any rescue efforts. Snape clearly hated being left out of Order missions, but with standing orders to kill the traitor on sight, and with the Ministry still after him for Dumbledore’s death—they never accepted that he had been following Dumbledore’s orders when he killed the Headmaster, despite testimony from several Order members—it was too dangerous for Snape to leave Order Headquarters. Harry had thought it quite fitting that Severus was in the same position as Sirius was years ago. Draco just thought it ironic, but then remembered where he was. He didn’t have time to think on Severus’ plight right now, but knowing that a man he trusted implicitly would not be able to help him tonight left Draco feeling very _alone_.

The Death Eaters began making their way towards the dungeons, milling quickly down the stairs. They seemed to be talking excitedly amongst themselves; this summons was unexpected. Draco shivered as he walked through a particularly intense ward, the magic buzzing malevolently over his skin.

“Blast,” Draco whispered silently to himself. His Portkey would be useless behind these wards, and Apparating would be impossible as well. He silently prayed he could find Harry and get them both out of here alive, preferably with his cover still intact. He was the only spy the Order had who was actually a Death Eater. But Draco knew that if he had to reveal his duplicity to save Harry, he would do it without hesitation.

With each descending step into the humid dank of the Malfoy dungeons, the dread in Draco’s stomach intensified. He felt like he was slowly entering a polluted pool, the dark murky water gradually rising up his chest, clinging to his skin, threatening to drown him. He’d never liked the dungeons, not even as a child. They’d always been foreboding; the rancid stench of fungus and blood never faded, no matter how often the house elves cleaned.

They entered a large chamber off to the right with a sloping stone floor. Sconces lit upon the walls illuminated the room brighter than he would have thought possible underground. Through the mass of black robes and hoods, Draco made his way towards the front of the crowd. There had to be over fifty Death Eaters in the room already, with more filtering in through the door. He was once again grateful to his Aunt Bellatrix for the torturous training in Occlumency he’d endured summer before sixth year. As much as she’d helped him, Draco had not grieved when she died during a battle with the Order. The bitch probably would turn in her grave now if she knew he was using Occlumency to shield himself from her side.

When he finally was able to see the centre of the room, his heart momentarily stopped. Harry stood a few metres away from the wall, his back towards the dripping stones, his hands locked above his head in manacles attached to the ceiling with magically reinforced chains. He was completely naked and looked as if he had been beaten. Red marks lashed across his torso, oozing dark blood, and an angry purple bruise was spreading across his swollen left cheek and jaw. His glasses were gone, and yet he was defiant in his pose, his jaw clenched, green eyes flashing. He was gagged with a wad of black fabric that was tied tightly around his head, making his cheekbones even more prominent than usual.

It took Draco a few seconds to regain his composure and rein in the panic threatening to overwhelm him. He had lost track ages ago of how many people he had seen raped and beaten as they hung from those chains. Many had died in this room, Muggle and Wizards alike, and he was hopelessly outnumbered. Sending a silent prayer that the Order would somehow manage to rescue them, Draco reinforced his mental barriers with practiced efficiency and began to plan.

Voldemort entered the room then, sauntering down the sloped floor as the Death Eaters parted to allow him to pass. His red eyes gleamed, a triumphant smile playing upon his lipless mouth.

“Ah, my faithful servants,” Voldemort said sibilantly, drawing out the _s_. “I have quite a show for you tonight.” He gestured an arm towards Harry, who was looking positively murderous.

A pleased murmur of approval washed through the crowd.

“Mister Potter is here tonight courtesy of one of our newest recruits, Malcolm Baddock, who captured him easily in a Muggle jewellery shop.” He gestured toward a Death Eater to his right who dropped to his knees.

“It was an honour to bring Potter to you, My Lord,” Baddock said as he bowed.

Draco startled. He recognised Baddock as a Slytherin student a few years behind him, but he wasn’t aware that Baddock had taken the Mark. And what was Harry doing in a jewellery shop?

The Dark Lord nodded at Malcolm, then continued, his hissing voice rising with glee as he turned to run a finger down Harry’s chest. “How trite. And you’re supposedly skilled in Defence? I’m almost disappointed in you, Harry.”

Harry glared at him while simultaneously trying to pull away from the long fingers that were tracing his pectoral muscles and circling a nipple. Voldemort stepped in closer and caressed the bruise on his cheek almost lovingly. Draco could see his lover’s body shudder at the touch, and those emerald eyes burned with undisguised loathing and pain. Draco felt a mirroring shiver in his body, and a surge of outrage nearly made him shout at the scaly bastard to get his hands off his Harry. He controlled his impulse, though, and focussed on maintaining his mental barriers.

“So tell me, Harry,” Voldemort drawled, “who’s the lucky girl?”

Draco had an insane urge to laugh. The snake had no clue.

“Well, I suppose she’s not so lucky, as she’s going to lose you before morning,” he said into Harry’s ear, trailing his tongue over the earlobe. Voldemort pulled back enough to look deeply into Harry’s eyes for a moment, and then he stepped away with a chuckle. “Ah, your skills in Occlumency have improved substantially. It is of no consequence, though. Her heart will be broken whether I know her name or not.” He waved his hand dismissively.

Draco was fleetingly relieved. Harry had apparently kept Voldemort away from thoughts about their relationship. He didn’t dwell on the nearly avoided disaster for long, though. They weren’t anywhere close to being out of this yet.

The Dark Lord strolled around Harry, eying him appreciatively. “I think we should give her a gift. Let us give her back Harry’s broken body, and free her from the illusion that he is ‘The Boy Who Lived.’ We shall rid you of all purity and innocence you have left,” he hissed, sliding his hands down Harry’s back and cupping his arse. “And then, Mister Potter, you will die.”

Draco’s heart thudded in his throat. This was really going to happen, and he would have to watch, or they would both die. Unless… He thought quickly, and then, very deliberately, he dropped a tiny bit of his mental block and projected a surge of emotion towards Voldemort.

Crimson eyes flicked to Draco, recognising him through the mask. “Ah, my youngest Malfoy,” he crooned. “I can feel your excitement from here.”

Draco smirked inwardly and carefully controlled his thoughts. Bowing his head, he said in as eager a voice as possible, “Yes, My Lord.” Upon raising his eyes, he saw Harry shoot an alarmed look in his direction. His stomach churned.

“Harry was a source of torment for you at school, was he not? I seem to remember Lucius mentioning just how much you despised Potter on more than one occasion,” Voldemort said as he walked towards Draco, obscuring his view of Harry.

“He used to bore us to tears complaining about Potter,” Lucius interjected, his voice coming from somewhere on Draco’s right.

Ah, there he was. Draco had wondered when he would run into his father. The man had not been able to bribe his way out of Azkaban, so in the end, he had escaped when the Dementors deserted the prison. Lucius was in hiding now, so Draco rarely saw him, something he didn’t mind at all.

The Dark Lord laughed at Lucius’ statement, and Draco fumed. His father always had been able to cut him down with remarkable ease, and he didn’t need a public reminder of how obsessed he was with Harry in school. “Potter was an infuriating, loathsome git at school, My Lord,” Draco replied, inserting a measure of contempt into his voice that was clearly directed at both his father and Potter.

“Would you like the opportunity to put him in his proper place, Draco?”

Fervently, he nodded. “I’d be thrilled, My Lord.”

Voldemort stepped back and gestured towards Harry. “Then by all means, let us watch as you break him.” Draco was disgusted by the excitement in the Dark Lord’s voice.

Now was his opportunity. He stepped forward and sauntered towards Harry, pulling off his mask. “My Lord,” he began, “I learned an important lesson about Potter in school. He will not break.”

Voldemort tilted his head and sneered. “No? Do explain,” he hissed dangerously.

“Potter is such a _noble_ Gryffindor, sir. So _righteous_. We could beat him, force him, we could all take turns with him, but it will only strengthen his resolve, make him more determined, fuel his righteous indignation, and make him stronger.” He leaned closer to Harry, stopping when he could feel the heat of his lover’s body. “If we want to break him, if we want to _humiliate_ him, we must make him _want_ it. _Enjoy_ it. Make him _beg_ for it.”

He caressed Harry’s naked chest and nuzzled his face into jet-black hair. Harry smelled intoxicating, a heady mix of spice, sweat, and adrenaline. He felt a weak flash of arousal, but because Draco was more intent on his act and planning their escape, it faded. “If we make him a whore for it, the virtuous little hero will crumble in his shame,” he growled into Harry’s ear, willing him silently to understand and act his part.

Harry visibly shivered and gave a muffled groan. Draco leaned back and looked him up and down lasciviously, smirking when he saw that Harry’s cock, which had been small and flaccid only moments before, was now halfway erect. Draco had always loved that he could turn Harry on merely by his nearness. It certainly proved useful now.

Voldemort laughed delightedly and turned to face the crowd of Death Eaters, who joined in. “Ah, yes, Lucius, he is your son, isn’t he?” he drawled with a smirk. “Quite devious, if I do say so myself.”

While the Dark Lord’s attention was averted briefly, Draco took the opportunity to trail his finger up Harry’s spine, tracing the words ‘play along’. Before he could see if Harry understood, Voldemort turned back in his direction.

“You seem to be doing quite well already,” he said, looking amusedly at Harry’s burgeoning erection. “Carry on, Draco. We could all use a good show.”

Well, he was out of stalling time, now. He’d managed to prevent Harry from being brutally and repeatedly raped, but he was still hoping the Order would somehow show up to save the day. He really didn’t want to have sex with Harry in front of a room full of Death Eaters, but he steeled his nerve to what he had to do. Get them both out alive first, then deal with the ramifications later. He took a deep breath.

He turned around to face Harry. Emerald eyes pierced his, and Draco was lost momentarily. He never ceased to be amazed at Harry’s eyes. He could see so much of his lover’s soul through them, and he looked intently now to see what Harry was thinking. Fear, anger, and pain swirled in Harry’s gaze, but as Draco looked deeper, he saw affection, desire, and trust. He slid his robes off his shoulders, and undid the top button of his shirt, letting Harry see the top of the dragon pendant. A silent understanding passed between them, and Harry’s eyelids drooped as he gave the slightest of nods.

Feeling incredibly relieved that Harry understood, Draco launched himself into his act. “Like what you see, Potter?” he said with a low voice as he began caressing Harry’s chest again.

Harry shook his head and growled through the gag.

“Your body tells me otherwise,” Draco laughed, and he trailed his hand lower to trace Harry’s navel.

Harry glared at him, but nevertheless, his erection surged upwards toward Draco’s hand, as if begging for attention. Draco ignored the murmuring laughter of the crowd, keeping his focus solely on his mental barriers, and on Harry.

“I think you like me touching you, _Harry_ ,” he purred into his lover’s ear as he began massaging Harry’s arse. “I wonder what your _girlfriend_ would think about that.”

Harry made a choking noise that Draco decided was nearly a laugh. He smirked and tweaked one of Harry’s nipples. Harry groaned, fully erect now.

Draco stepped to stand at Harry’s side, trying not to flinch as the Dark Lord hissed his approval when Harry’s body came into view. Squashing thoughts of _you can’t look at him, he’s mine_ , he continued.

“Does she know you get turned on by a man touching you?” he continued as he stroked his fingers across Harry’s abdomen, feeling the raised welts there and smearing blood across the skin.

Harry growled into his gag, shaking his head.

“What,” Draco pouted, “don’t you like it?” He pulled his hand around Harry’s hip and across his buttocks.

Harry shook his head no and moaned. Draco could hear the desire there, stifled by cloth.

“You will, Potter,” he admonished. “You’ll beg for it soon.” He gently caressed Harry’s back and chest, chuckling when Harry jerked as he feathered his fingers across the sensitive skin on the inside of Harry’s arms and down his ribcage. The assembled Death Eaters laughed, too, and Draco couldn’t help but be annoyed at their presence. He hadn’t known that Harry was ticklish, and they rather ruined what would have been a delightful surprise.

Scowling, Draco continued. “Ticklish?” he asked, ghosting his lips across Harry’s ear. He ran his fingers up Harry’s other side, smiling when Harry jerked again.

“Don’t dawdle, Draco,” came his father’s voice from behind one of the Death Eater masks. “I do believe our Lord asked you for a show.”

Draco wanted to throw a few select curses at Lucius, but he sneered instead. “And I was so enjoying teasing our little golden boy. But you will get a show, Father, have no doubt.”

He turned back to Harry, who was glaring at Lucius as though willing the man to die where he stood. Draco loathed his father as much as Harry did, and it was terribly difficult not to give Harry a commiserating glance.

But Draco had to up the ante now, he knew it. There was no way he could get out of this without inflicting some sort of pain—his audience was too twisted to get off on anything vanilla. This was his ‘show’, but there had long been standard expectations for what occurred in this room.

“So, you like to be tickled, Potter,” Draco said as he moved behind Harry, glad he was tall enough to see over his lover’s shoulder. “Of course, being a Gryffindor, you’d enjoy _gentle_ touch. What about something more forceful?”

Harry’s eyes widened as he turned his head, trying to keep Draco within his peripheral vision. Draco glimpsed a hint of fear there, and desire. They hadn’t had the time yet to explore the wilder side of sex, and Draco mentally cursed Voldemort for forcing them into this in a _very_ public setting.

_SMACK!!!_

Draco spanked Harry firmly on the arse, then stood to the side to see the effect. Harry jerked with a muffled cry, then flushed prettily across his cheekbones and down his chest. His gorgeous cock began leaking clear fluid. Sweet Merlin, Harry had _enjoyed_ that. Draco’s erection surged in his trousers. He let his arousal build now; he should be enjoying Harry’s subjugation for this to be believable. But it wasn’t that Harry was submissive to him that excited Draco, it was Harry himself, and Draco’s indefinable feelings about him.

“Ooh, like that, did you?” he crowed.

Harry just shook his head vigorously, his messy black hair falling into his eyes.

“You don’t lie very well, Potter,” Draco said, and spanked him again, this time on the other cheek. Harry gave another muffled cry as his cock lurched upward.

“So the Light’s golden little hero has some deep, dark secrets, after all!” Draco praised, relishing the sting on his palm. It hurt, and Draco needed it to hurt right now. The pain kept him grounded, despite his own arousal.

Another ripple of laughter traversed the crowd of Death Eaters. Draco tried to tune them out, to convince himself that this was an elaborate role-playing game and that he and Harry were safe in his flat. At the same time, he tried to keep his wits about him, as this was most certainly a very real and very dangerous situation.

He smacked Harry on the arse once more, then caressed the red mark he’d left. Harry’s flush crawled down his shoulder blades.

“Do you want me to touch you, Potter?” he said softly into Harry’s ear, yet loudly enough for it to carry through the room.

Harry groaned as Draco trailed his fingers across his abdomen, caressing the line of muscle across his hips. Then he shook his head again.

“I think you’re lying again,” Draco purred, brushing his fingers through wiry pubic hair and around Harry’s sac, coming close to fondling his balls, but not quite.

Harry whimpered, his eyes clenched shut.

“I think you are aching for me to touch you, Potter. Your cock is on fire, and you’ll just die if I don’t touch you.”

Harry moaned and shook his head again, only it was much feebler this time.

“Ah, look at the noble Gryffindor. Look how hard he is for it!” Draco laughed, and the crowd joined in. “I don’t think I’ll touch you there, yet, Potter. I’ll wait until you beg for it.” He withdrew his fingers from Harry’s groin and trailed them across his hip and around a buttock.

Harry gave a pathetic mewl.

Draco drew his wand and cast a nonverbal lubrication charm on his fingers. “I do think I’ll touch you here, though,” he said as he pressed two of his slick fingers between Harry’s cheeks and across his opening.

Harry jerked, his whole body bucking forward at the contact. The chains attached to his wrists rattled and clanked.

“Not ready for that, were you?” he chuckled. “Tell me, do you like this?” He stroked Harry’s hole more forcefully, spreading the slick gel and pressing in on the muscular sphincter, urging it to relax.

Harry buried his face into his arm, groaning and shaking his head. His cock was practically dribbling now.

Draco grinned. “What about this, then?” He inserted two fingers into Harry. He would have preferred to use one finger, to work his way up to three, but he didn’t think the audience would approve of such gentleness.

Harry’s knees buckled, and he cried out into his gag. Draco could see that his lover’s eyes were clenched shut, his face a grimace of pain. Draco’s body throbbed with guilt and remorse, but he continued the act, holding his fingers still for a moment so Harry could adjust.

“My, my, Potter. You’re so tight. Am I breaching a virgin entrance?” he snickered, knowing full well that he was doing so. He’d bottomed up to this point, but Harry had mentioned wanting to switch roles, and it was something Draco had been eagerly looking forward to, until now.

A single tear leaked out of Harry’s eyes, and Draco felt something inside him break. But he had to continue—it was the only way they might get out of this alive. So he twisted his fingers, searching for Harry’s prostate. He had to make this good for his lover.

Harry stilled and took a deep, shuddering breath when Draco found it.

“Ah, that’s the spot, isn’t it?” He pressed on it firmly, stroking. “I know you like that, Potter, don’t lie.”

Harry moaned and dropped his head back to his bicep. He gave a feeble nod.

“He admits he likes it!” Draco crowed triumphantly, and the assembled Death Eaters cheered. “Do you want more?”

Harry gave no response, but his hips canted towards Draco slightly.

Draco added another finger, stretching Harry, while he used his other hand to undo his buckle and unzip his trousers. His hand was shaking, badly, so it was difficult. He hid his face behind Harry’s mop of hair and took a deep breath to steady himself. Harry’s scent wafted over him, with a faint coppery sting to it, but it soothed and stimulated Draco at the same time.

It only took a moment, but it felt much longer to Draco. He was free of his trousers, now, and he cast the nonverbal lubrication charm again without really being aware of it. It seemed for a moment as if he was watching someone else doing this, but the instant his cock breached Harry’s body, reality slammed back home.

“Mmmphmphmhhh!” Harry moaned, and to Draco, it sounded full of pain and surprise. His heart broke a little more. Slowly, he slid in fully, gasping at the hot squeeze. Then he remembered that he was supposed to be putting on a show.

“Mmm, Potter,” he purred, “you are deliciously tight. How does it feel?”

Another tear slipped down Harry’s cheek as he groaned into the gag.

Draco slowly slid back and began thrusting, gently. “You love this, don’t you?” he said as he aimed his stroke at Harry’s prostate. His aim was dead on. Harry let out what would have been a yelp.

Voldemort laughed triumphantly, and the crowd of Death Eaters applauded, jeered, and catcalled. Draco felt he was losing his mind, trying to stay aware of what the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters were doing, while simultaneously trying to ignore them and focus on the feeling of Harry surrounding him for the first time. He really couldn’t enjoy this, but he had to, nonetheless. He had to time it just right…

He thrust steadily into Harry, building momentum gradually. His lover was moaning, bucking to meet his thrusts, visibly writhing in pleasure, his head dropped forward to hide his face. Voldemort was saying something, and Lucius spoke in return, but Draco didn’t hear what they said. He was vaguely aware of himself speaking, asking Harry to beg to be touched, and watching as Harry nodded and pleaded. Rather, he focussed his attention primarily on Harry, and the wash of magic beginning to flow over him. _Yes._ He reached around to stroke Harry’s cock, feeling his own magic rising to join with Harry’s as Harry tightened around him.

The rush of their shared orgasm eclipsed everything else from Draco’s awareness for a few seconds. A tremendous blast of energy exploded from them as Draco cried out and Harry sobbed into his gag.

Several things happened in quick succession while Draco was still dazed. The Death Eaters who had been closest were thrown to the floor, Voldemort and Lucius included. The lights flickered and he heard a loud sizzle, and he could feel the magic shift in the room. Feeling relief surge through him, Draco knew that the wards were down. Harry sagged against him, limp from the power of his climax, gasping for breath through his gag. The room erupted into chaos as the door exploded off its hinges and Aurors flooded through. Spells began flying everywhere, as Death Eaters duelled with Order members and Aurors. Draco took advantage of the distraction and withdrew from Harry’s body, hastily pulling up his trousers and gathering his wits about him.

When he looked back up, Moody and Voldemort were duelling with each other, moving their wands so quickly that their arms were blurred.

Draco began firing off stunners about the room, deliberately missing the Order members.

“Don’t let them take Potter!” Lucius shouted, looking directly at Draco.

His chest tightened. They would blame him for Harry’s escape now. The best Draco could do was to make it appear as if he’d lost a duel. _Fuck._ He could tell from the suspicion in his Father’s eyes that he was already in trouble over the wards falling. His cover might not be blown, but Draco doubted he could continue spying for the Order any longer.

But that didn’t matter at the moment. He needed to get Harry out of the manacles, but with Death Eaters dashing around him, he didn’t dare do it himself. Sandy-brown hair flashed in his peripheral vision, and he spun to see Remus Lupin fighting his way towards Harry.

Draco sent another _Stupefy_ , just missing the werewolf. He needed to get Lupin’s attention. Furious yellow-brown eyes glared at him, and Draco jerked his head towards Harry’s hands. “Take me prisoner when you’re freed,” he whispered to Harry, who was coming back to reality as he watched the fracas around him. From the way his nude body was shaking, though, Draco could tell that Harry was struggling to keep himself together.

Lupin shot a spell at Harry’s hands, freeing them from the cuffs. Harry groaned as his arms fell limply to his sides. He couldn’t seem to move them for a moment; Harry had been hanging from the chains for hours, and his arms were probably numb. Draco pretended not to notice and shot a _Petrificus Totalus_ in Granger’s direction, but missed her completely and hit a Death Eater square in the chest.

Finally, Harry took advantage of the chaos to jump onto Draco’s back, and as they wrestled, Draco shoved his wand in Harry’s hand. His boyfriend’s arms were still not quite working right. Draco moved in front of Harry, bringing his hand with him, resulting in Harry holding Draco’s wand to his throat.

“Good, Harry,” Draco said softly. Harry was breathing heavily behind him and squeezed him lightly.

Catching Lupin’s eye, he reached up, as if he was going for his wand, but instead he clutched at his dragon pendant, pressing on the eyes. With a tug behind his navel, they portkeyed away to Harry’s flat.

The sudden silence and stillness was a shock to Draco’s system. Harry immediately collapsed behind him, Draco’s wand skittering across the floor, and Draco spun around to help his boyfriend.

“Harry…”

Harry tucked his knees to his chest and hugged them tightly, dropping his forehead to his arms. Draco’s heart plummeted. Squatting on his heels, he reached for Harry to try to comfort him, but he jerked away from the touch.

Harry didn’t meet Draco’s eyes as he reached up with shaking hands to remove the gag from his mouth and discard it on the floor. “Don’t,” Harry rasped, and he lowered his head back down to his arms.

“I am so sorry, Harry…” Draco said after a moment. Honestly, what could he say? He’d done what was necessary, but he had wounded his lover regardless, possibly irrevocably.

Harry finally raised his head and looked at Draco. Tear tracks streaked down his cheeks and Draco could see the humiliation in every line on his lover’s face.

“I know, Draco. I…” he shivered. “I need to be alone for a bit…”

Draco swallowed tightly as his heart cracked. “I understand. I’ll just go…”

“No!” Harry insisted, his whole body shuddering now. “I don’t want you to leave…” He looked conflicted.

“Harry, you’re naked and shivering,” Draco pleaded softly. “At least put some clothes on.”

He dropped his face back down onto his arms, shaking his head violently. “No…feel dirty…” he mumbled.

“Then take a bath. I’ll draw it for you, and let you alone a while,” Draco replied. He was desperate to help his love somehow. “Please, Harry…”

“Okay.” He didn’t move.

Relieved to have something to do, Draco stood to go into the lavatory. He took a step, then paused and grabbed a throw off the sofa. He draped it around Harry’s shoulders. Harry just let him, and Draco felt his throat tighten again. He’d never seen Harry like this, and didn’t know how best to handle it. For the time being, though, he would run his boyfriend a bath.

Draco all but sprinted to the bathroom and turned on the taps. As the water filled the large claw-foot tub, he dug through the cabinets, looking for healing potions. He was concerned about Harry’s injuries, but nothing seemed too severe, physically, at least. He would try to persuade Harry to go see Madam Pomfrey later, he decided. Finding the bottle he was looking for, Draco added the healing potion to the water, and poured in some relaxation oils, as well.

Draco had almost expected to find Harry still crouched on the floor, but upon returning to the living room, he stopped short when he saw Harry stand up and clutch the blanket tighter around himself. Harry walked towards Draco slowly, his body stiff. His heart pounding, Draco watched Harry try to pull himself together as he approached.

Pained green eyes met his when Harry reached Draco, giving him a feeble half-smile. “Just give me some time alone,” Harry said softly. “We’ll talk later.”

Draco nodded, and his spirits leapt when Harry’s fingers squeezed his hand gently as he made his way towards the bath. Maybe there was reason to hope for their relationship, after all.

When the bathroom door closed, Draco felt the emotions of the evening hit him like a herd of rampaging hippogriffs. The adrenalin high of the fight and escape crashed, and he felt his knees buckle. He sat down heavily in the nearest chair and struggled to stop himself breaking down. He needed something to do…could keep himself from crumbling if he had something to do…

He’d nearly lost Harry tonight. Might still lose Harry tonight. That thought left Draco feeling so… _empty_ , like part of his soul was tearing away. He didn’t know how he would handle it if Harry didn’t forgive him.

_That won’t happen,_ he reassured himself. Shuddering, he forced himself to think about more immediate concerns, like dealing with the Order.

Lupin saw them leave, so they would know that he and Harry were safe, and once they’d escaped, Draco had no doubt that the Order would have retreated as quickly as possible, detaining as many Death Eaters as they could, of course. And they would want to know what happened. He was surprised that no one had shown up to question them, yet. Perhaps they were still battling, or regrouping at Headquarters. He should let Snape know what was going on, at least. He could buy some time alone with Harry that way.

He went to the fireplace, finally noticing the aches that severe stress had left in his body. Dropping to his knees, he flooed Severus for the second time that night.

The Potions Master was pacing in his quarters. “Draco!” he exclaimed when he noticed the head in his grate. “What has happened?”

“Have you not heard from Lupin or Moody, yet?” Draco asked as Snape knelt in front of him.

“Not yet. Did you find Potter?”

“Yes,” Draco replied. “He was chained in the Malfoy Manor dungeons.”

Snape blanched the colour of parchment as his eyes widened with comprehension, and he nodded at Draco to continue.

Draco suddenly found himself pouring out the night’s events, in detail, although he significantly abbreviated the bits about him fucking Harry in front of everyone. Harry wasn’t the only one who felt sullied after what had happened, and while Draco wasn’t normally one to share his emotions freely, he couldn’t stop the purge.

Severus merely listened, his face grave.

“Where is Potter now?” Snape asked after Draco finished talking.

“Taking a bath. He said he needed to be alone for a bit,” Draco replied.

Snape gave a small snort. “Typical,” he chuckled. “Going off to lick his wounds alone…”

Draco had no patience for this, not now. He raised an eyebrow and glared at his former Potions Professor, who immediately changed the topic.

“Were you discovered? Were you seen helping him?”

“I don’t think so,” Draco replied. “It was chaos after the Order burst in. Lupin freed Harry from the manacles, not me, and I tried to make it look like we struggled for my wand and he won. But the fact remains that the wards fell at the exact moment that we came, and I know Father is suspicious.”

“You will be punished for allowing him to escape, if you return,” Snape said matter-of-factly.”

“I know. I’m not sure what to do next, though.”

“Discuss the matter with Potter and the Order in the morning. The Dark Lord will most likely suspect you, regardless. I would be very wary of returning to him, if I were you,” Severus advised.

Draco nodded, his face pensive. He didn’t care so much about his role as a spy for the Order at the moment; he was more concerned with Harry.

Snape picked up on his thoughts, as Draco wasn’t exactly blocking his mind. “Don’t worry, Draco, Potter will be fine. He is the most obstinate, stubborn, irrepressible person I’ve ever met. You did what was necessary to save his life, and yours. He’ll understand that, even if it takes him a while to do so. It always takes time to get anything into his thick head.”

The man had a point, but Draco glared at him anyway. “Will you inform the Order that Harry and I are safe at his flat, and that we’ll meet with them tomorrow?”

“Certainly,” Snape replied.

“Good. I’m blocking the Floo, then. See you tomorrow, Severus.”

Snape nodded; Draco withdrew from the connection and closed the Floo.

Not knowing what else to do with himself while he waited for Harry to bathe, Draco wandered into the kitchen and put on some water for tea, going through the motions mechanically. He sat on the sofa a few minutes later, sipping scalding Earl Grey and staring at the fire, wondering if there was anything he could have done differently. He liked the way the tea burned his mouth—it gave him something to focus on besides the fear and worry in his soul.

It had to have been at least half an hour later when Harry finally called out to him, his voice distant. “Draco?”

Draco startled and leapt to his feet, not caring that his empty teacup clattered to the floor, the handle breaking as it hit the stone hearth. He dashed down the hall and nearly skidded into the bathroom door, but he stopped himself in time. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door.

Harry was still sitting in the bathtub, and Draco could tell from the temperature in the room that the water had cooled substantially. “Yes, Harry?” he said, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. He didn’t know if he succeeded.

“Get me a towel, would you?” Harry asked softly, his eyes on his knees. He hadn’t looked up at Draco yet.

Towels hung from the rack, within easy reach of the tub, but Harry made no move to get one. Draco didn’t care. Harry seemed to be reaching out to him, asking for help, so he stepped into the room and pulled a towel off the rack. “Sure,” he said softly, holding the towel open for Harry to step into.

As Harry stood, Draco was relieved to see that the cuts on his torso had healed. All that remained were faint pink marks that would fade within a few days. Harry stepped out of the tub, dripping water all over the floor, and moved into the towel and Draco’s arms. His arms held up to his chest, Harry dropped his forehead on Draco’s shoulder and pressed into him as Draco wrapped the towel around him. They stood there for a long moment, breathing in sync, and Draco felt the knot of worry in his gut release a bit.

“Sorry I was late,” Harry mumbled into his shoulder.

Draco gave an anxious chuckle, discombobulated by the joke, and held Harry closer. He didn’t trust himself to speak just then, but he was hoping that Harry’s attempt to lighten the mood was a positive sign.

Finally, Harry lifted his head and looked Draco in the eye. “Thanks,” he said softly.

Unsure of what to say, Draco nodded and pressed his lips to Harry’s forehead. He then noticed that the bruising on Harry’s cheek hadn’t faded, so he diverted his attention to healing the swollen jaw. Gently, he turned Harry’s face and traced his wand across the wound.

“I mean it, Draco,” Harry continued when Draco had finished. “Thank you.”

Knowing Harry was talking about more than the towel and healing charms, Draco swallowed. They needed to be sitting down for this conversation. “Let’s get you dressed, Harry, and then we’ll have a cup of tea,” he said.

Harry smiled, and even though his lover’s green eyes were tired, Draco knew with a rush of relief that they would be okay. “I’ll just go get my pyjamas,” Harry said, stepping back from Draco and tightening the towel around his waist.

Draco shortly found himself sitting by the fire again, only this time Harry was sitting next to him on the sofa, his feet curled beneath him, facing Draco rather than the fireplace. Draco had repaired his teacup, and they both sat there quietly, sipping their tea.

“Harry, I—” Draco began, but Harry interrupted him.

“Don’t, Draco,” he said firmly, all exhaustion gone from his voice. He was gazing at Draco with the most open and honest expression that Draco had ever seen, and it was so intense it was nearly uncomfortable. “You did what you had to do. I know that. There was nothing else you could have done. And if it hadn’t been you, it would have been someone else. You got me out of there. So like I said, thank you.”

Draco nodded. “I’m still sorry for what I had to do, Harry,” he said.

“So am I. You said making me beg would break me, and you were right. You humiliated me and hurt me.”

There was no trace of accusation or anger in Harry’s voice, but Draco couldn’t look at Harry anymore, the regret and remorse welling within him was too strong. He dropped his eyes to his tea.

Harry refused to let him, though, as Draco quickly found Harry’s fingers gripping his chin firmly, forcing him to meet his gaze. The space between them seemed to vanish suddenly, and Draco was caught in an intense intimacy, honesty, that forced him to stop breathing, as he was lost in his lover’s eyes.

“I would have broken, Draco, if it had been anyone but you. I would have shattered, even if they hadn’t made me beg. But it was you, and I trust you, and I knew you would help put me back together if we got out of there alive. From the moment you stepped forward, I knew that I would be fine, no matter what you had to do to save us both, no matter what you had to do to me. It certainly wasn’t what I had in mind for my first time submitting to you, but you made it good. You saved my life; more than that you saved me from being used and violated and damaged.”

Draco felt air rush into his lungs again as Harry’s words hammered home. Something inside him melted, warmth spilling forth and filling him whole.

“I…” Harry paused, his face flush with emotion. He scooted across the sofa until he was nearly sitting in Draco’s lap. He raised both his hands to Draco’s cheeks, brushing a thumb across dry lips and trailing a finger under his ear. “I love you, Draco,” Harry whispered. “I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while—I was going to tell you tonight at dinner.”

Draco had wondered what was so wonderful about his relationship with Harry, what had made it so important to him, and the moment he heard those three words fall from Harry’s lips, he knew. _Love._

Before Draco knew what he was doing, he had clutched Harry into his lap and was kissing him desperately. “Oh Merlin, I love you too, Harry,” he managed to say a moment later. “I couldn’t let them have you…” Draco buried his face in Harry’s chest, breathing him in as Harry wrapped his arms around him.

He leant back on the sofa, pulling Harry with him. Quickly, they arranged themselves so Harry was lying on top of Draco, his head resting on Draco’s shoulder. Draco entwined his fingers into Harry’s mop of black hair, and with his other hand, gently caressed his back. It was soothing to lie together like this, and Draco felt his own stress of the day’s events drain from his body. “So are you okay?” he asked after a few minutes of silence.

Harry sighed, but it sounded contented. “Yeah, I think so,” he replied. “If not, I will be.”

Draco squeezed him tighter. “Good,” he said softly.

“Did you close the Floo?” Harry asked.

“Yes. I told Severus that we were okay and that we’d talk to everyone tomorrow,” Draco answered.

“Thanks. I couldn’t have handled talking to them tonight. I hope everyone else got out okay,” Harry mumbled into Draco’s shoulder.

“I’m sure they did, they’d be beating down the door otherwise.”

Harry chuckled. “True.”

Now that he was relaxed, a question popped into Draco’s mind. “So,” he said with a smile, “what were you doing in a Muggle jewellery shop?”

He could feel Harry’s grin. “Looking for a gift for you. I had just turned my back to the door to look at some bracelets when I was hit with a stunner. Never saw who it was, didn’t find out until later.”

Draco could feel Harry tense at the memory. “I’ll take care of Baddock later, have no doubt. But we were talking about you shopping for a gift for me,” he said, giving Harry a teasing nudge.

Harry laughed, and it was the best sound Draco had heard all night. “Spoiled brat, you are,” Harry muttered.

“You say that as if it’s a bad thing,” Draco gasped, mock offended, enjoying the much-needed levity.

“I haven’t found anything that suits you, yet. I’ll keep looking.”

Draco grinned, thinking he’d be visiting a jewellery shop on his own sometime in the very near future. “So where were we going to go to dinner?” he asked, suddenly remembering their previous plans.

“Gordon Ramsay’s in Claridge’s Hotel,” Harry replied.

Draco groaned. “Baddock is definitely going down for making me miss that. I love French food.” French cuisine always felt like home to Draco; his family tree had deep roots in Paris and Versailles.

“I know,” Harry said softly. “I’m sure I can reschedule for another evening. Maybe this weekend. We do have more to celebrate now than just our anniversary, after surviving tonight.”

“What doesn’t break us…” Draco whispered.

“…makes us stronger,” Harry finished. Draco hummed his agreement, embracing Harry gently. They had survived, bruised but unbroken, and Draco decided that this moment was all that mattered.

They lay there quietly for several minutes, taking comfort in being together, listening to the fireplace crackling and their hearts beating in tandem. Then something else that Harry had said popped into Draco’s mind. “You said I made it good…” he said softly, hoping that it was the truth.

“You certainly did,” Harry replied, his voice low. “Had we not been surrounded by Death Eaters, it would have been phenomenal.”

Draco could feel Harry’s face heat up, and he smirked. “I never knew you liked being spanked, love,” he teased.

Harry groaned and buried his face in Draco’s chest. “Neither did I,” came the muffled response, which was followed by a kiss to Draco’s clavicle.

Draco laughed and kissed the top of Harry’s head, relishing the answering squeeze from the man on top of him. Harry quickly fell asleep from exhaustion, and Draco continued to stare at the fireplace, stroking his fingers through his lover’s hair. They would meet with the Order in the morning, and make decisions about the future then, but for now, all Draco needed was to lie on the sofa with Harry, his weight comforting and reassuring. Gradually, Draco’s breathing matched Harry’s and he fell asleep as well.

* * *

end

  



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